Let Me Go
by rv-icons
Summary: TEMP HIATUS Altaïr/OC - “Trust me” I shivered as a deep Palestinian accent caught my ear. He pulled me close, my heart racing at our contact before he swiftly pulled away and covered himself within the shadows. M violence -R&R PLEASE-
1. To Jerusalem

This is my first ever published FF so please be kind

_This is my first ever published FF so please be kind. There are so many good stories out there for Assassins Creed; however there seem to be so few of them so here I go… and please R&R thanks : ) Zoë x_

_**DISCLAIMER**__:__I don't own Altaïr or any other characters related to/mentioned within the game the game. OC however are mine. _

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**To Jerusalem**

I unhooked the silken khumūr that hung across and covered my mouth, the wind unsettling its sleek folds and I watched as the dust I had accumulated during my hard ride danced, unfurling, following the spicy trail of hot air towards my eye line of the great city. Jerusalem.

From the Cliffside the holy city excited every air of energy inside of me; my heart began to beat an ancient rhythm, my thoughts lost within my pulse. I could see the clearly defined limits of her high masonry, yet sprawling arms reaching, clasping every degree around her vast populace, clinging to the Judean landscape, defiant in the intense eastern sun. I could not help but think to myself, of what horrors Jerusalem had witnessed here, and how they had shaped her being.

Jerusalem's silhouette burnt across the near setting sun producing the symbols of both Christian and Muslim. From such a height I could make out the dome of the Sepulchre, and the looming minarets of countless Mosques. For over a hundred years leaders from all creed and culture had taken claim upon her stronghold, creating the most sought after city I may possibly ever imagine. However so, I knew my job here, "I should not curse my thoughts with ill used faith" I whispered to myself. Bracing the reins around my tightly clasped hands I dug my heels into the flanks of my mare, Aini. She lurched forwards carrying me down the meandering pathway, turning at each steep level of craggy Judean rock.

The sun hung low on the horizon, the atmosphere red and wild, strangely familiar. Whilst concerning myself with the prospect of thieves and hunters I reciprocated Aini's pace and urged her onwards clicking gently and watching as her ears pricked sensing my urgency. We reached the citadels Eastern entrance just before nightfall, I slowed our pace, clicking again with my tongue, noticing the rhythm change within Aini and tried my best to look as inconspicuous as I could.

The bustle of the city echoed softly in my ears, the noise of shutters closing, children being called in by their mothers, the sound of excitement and at the same time fear. It was at nightfall that the city seemed to die, or at least slumber, God knows Jerusalem had seen enough hardship and death in her time, I imagined it made sense that she curled away hid from it at night, creating an inner sanctuary for herself.

Seven guards stood before the gate, each one taking a share of the open space that parted me from my destination. My eyes searched the now dark blue surroundings hunting for any others that could hinder my path. I smirked slightly, a curl at the side of my mouth as I noticed two groups of men, clearly guards, posted at the edge of the tradesman's registry, was I so naive to think it easy? Behind the guards at the gate I became aware of a group of four scholars wandering towards me, I saw my opportunity approached the pathway leading inside the capital, head bowed, the khumūr hiding my fair features such that they could not be seen during the encapsulating darkness that swallowed every inch of perception in the first guards doubts. He immediately stood aside, motioning to his men to follow suit. It was then I noticed the icy stare of a fifth scholar, I blinked proving the suspicion in my mind, "four" I whispered to myself, "not five". Situated in the middle of the group was a man dressed in a white tunic, laden with an array of violent instruments hid in plain sight. He did as the others, cupping his hands together in a prayer like pretence. Almost reflexively I shivered. I thought I knew the glare that hid under the shady hood; I remembered the deep pools that had preyed upon my embarrassingly pale and passé features contrary to what the eastern women held in abundance. His piercing stare had always been menacing, yet I instantly felt safe, protected. _The brotherhood must have sent news ahead of my arrival_, I thought to myself, yet however familiar that fiercely dark glare had been, I quickly tried to dismiss it. I had a tendency to see things where they were not. Sometimes a lone compliment translating into undying love, my mind conjuring and twisting my perceptions. Nonetheless _if had been him why was he venturing out?_ My ponderings were quickly broken, as we passed each other. From Aini's height I could have sworn I saw his head tilt upwards to study me, his hood turned up still covering his eyes, both my fears and hopes were confirmed, it was him. _Assassin._ He however carried on as if I was of little significance. _How usual._ What more could I expect, he had always held indifference a worthy trait of his personality. I however did not.

It must have been five, maybe ten seconds later that he had appeared within the scholars and then passed me, yet it felt like much longer. Not wanting to arouse suspicion I tried to straighten myself up, and with an air of disinterest I managed to clear all thoughts of him from my being.

Aini finally strode into the thick maze of buildings and bare market stalls. Now only the husky chuckle of a man in the distance could be heard. Four escorts awaited me within the inner wall of Jerusalem, firstly waving me past, before recognising me and apologetically greeting me. I acknowledged them instantly, the coat of arms they bore upon their chests were the arms of Jerusalem. The gold weft presenting itself against its pale blue backing in the freshly awoken moonlight.

"Masa il Kheer" the first escort addressed whilst bowing slightly. He was not native to Jerusalem, like me his pale face and fair hair misplacing him, glowing and reflecting. However it was his accent that really completed my judgment, he had a broad Germanic tone to his voice. "I am Adelbrecht formerly of Saxony", he softly greeted. I smiled appreciatively at his welcoming tone. Again his pastel complexion marking him out amongst the three dark men that stood behind him, "these are the guards my Lord would have me send as your escort party, he is very particular about the safety of his guests as you may well remember from your first visit" he smiled politely.

"Masa il Noor" I replied to is greeting, "And an undeniably striking evening it is too" I added, "of all my visits here to Jerusalem I have never seen her so magnificently displayed as I did whilst on the Mount of Olives on my way down." - My mind suddenly flicking back to the image of light and shadow. _Assassin_. The word echoing in my head. I blinked, mentally focussing on my words. "I completely understand His Majesty's concern, he has always been a competent worrier" I continued the joke playing upon my lips, Adelbrecht nodding in agreement. But I didn't see. I had turned to look behind me, caving in to my desire to do so, merely to see if a white shape stood in the shadows, on the wall, or a surrounding building. I even searched the previous landscape with hurried eyes, but he was not seen. However hard I tried to respectively continue the conversation, all my attention reverted to him. _Where was he?_ My brain quarrelled with itself over whether he was on his way to a mission or purely attempting to tease and play with me. All I could think of was his mysterious hood and the unseen eyes that still under shadow managed to pick apart at me, examining my soul as if he were able see my thoughts, the most personal depths of my mind.

"My Lady?" Adelbrecht questioned. I had not heard him, "do you wish to depart for the palace?"

"Sorry?" I turned to face him, tossing all reflection on the hooded man aside as best I could.

"Shall we head off, only the night is drawing in and His Majesty would wish for you to be present at court tonight." He pressed as the three men behind him and he himself mounted the horses that had been grazing on a very small patch of grass next to a natural spring, out of a nearby wall. I acknowledged with a smile and with a gentle tone directed Aini onwards. She seemed to hold her head high and proud, trotting, leading the way, and as Adelbrecht came to my left side, Aini nuzzled playfully, pushing at his handsome steeds nose. The three other guards then surrounded me. One in front leading, another to my right side and the last some paces away behind, the keen eyes of the escorting party.

* * *

No sooner had we left the gates I already felt the threat of dark Jerusalem. Being October the sun hung heavy early in the afternoon, and in the space of time it had taken me to descend the Mount of Olives to the Eastern gate, it had quickly fallen. A dull glow was the only light visible within the bulk of the city, partly the moon, partly the hundreds of oil lamps that shone within the houses. In the distance I heard a howl of a large dog, a wolf maybe. Looking at the masonry and buildings that enveloped us on all sides, I thought of home. England. When my family and I had first moved to the east, I was only 8, an impressionable age, and I had regarded all that my Bishop had told me true. I grinned suppressing a laugh, trying not to disturb the quiet slumber of Jerusalem. I remember well what lies and ill truths he had told me of the Saracen faith, at first believing it, until our settlement in Damascus. Apparently killing an infidel to the Christian faith gained you place in eternal heaven, the death of an innocent Moor or Saracen was justified by their colour. He had told me only creatures of the devil could have such scorched features. My parents quickly emphasised to me the misjudgement within the papacy's doctrine of holy war, and corrected the growth of lies that could have taken hold of me. _Holy war_, I laughed quietly hiding a smile. My religion had cared not for me, and I ensured I returned its favour. Nevertheless my hand maid Yasirah, had taught me basic Arabic and read to me the sentiments of the prophet _pbuh,_ the will of Allah, I made sure that I listened intently, my only goal through life to avoid ignorance at all costs and to stop injustice. As usual I was preoccupied in my own thoughts and didn't notice as the guard in front of me suddenly stopped and dismounted.

Sword drawn he stalked the area in front of us.

"What is it Tahir?" Adelbrecht asked? His sword also drawn in anticipation as he dismounted. The guard that had been behind me paced forwards to search with Tahir.

"I cannot tell Sir, I thought I saw a man in the dark" Tahir continued to scrutinize the darkness, studying the shadows for the slightest glimpse of movement. I turned around and also searched the dark, _was it him?_ I preyed it was, rather than thieves or Templars, the last people I wanted to see whilst down a strange alleyway at night. Silently I tried to move Aini backwards as unnoticeably as I could, I turned only to see the assassin straight ahead of me, stood as if he had been waiting for me to do so. I was taken aback by his swift arrival. "Wha-" I started, only to be silenced by his gesture, he put his finger up to his mouth and pointed to the four escorts ahead still peering further along the road. _What the hell is he playing at_ I cursed silently. He moved closer and beckoned me off Aini. He grasped my arm tightly, and turned me about pulling me into his chest, winding me a little, before whispering in my ear.

"Trust me." I shivered as his deep Palestinian accent caught my cold ear and warmed me throughout. "Move forwards, play along." I didn't understand, but I trusted his judgement too much, and just had to hold my tongue until he commanded me further. A part of me didn't want to comply, his assumption that I would irritated me. He had hardly talked, and already I sensed his stubborn self love, that when mixed with his physical masculine charm started to confuse my thoughts. It had been like this before. I remembered the way he made me feel so unworthy and disgusting, yet I couldn't help hanging on his every word, I had felt myself honoured just by being around him, all the time however he was completely indifferent, or appeared to be so. We would, or I should say **he** would have totally one sided conversations talking to me, about himself, and I would happily listen. A part of me had known he did it to every girl he met, I knew he savoured the same old lovesick reactions he gained from women, sometimes just from walking past them. It, apparently, was his trick. He grasped the reins from Aini's neck, who at this point was still facing backwards, and set them in my hands. Adelbrecht, Tahir and the other two guards were still searching ahead of themselves, spread out at different levels. Adelbrecht appeared to turn slightly, and i felt my heart race in fear of being caught. _Who are they? Do they really come from the King? What threat do they pose for me?_ I knew it must have been some considerable threat either from them or another along the way, as the bureau would not have sent an assassin. My mind suddenly flicked to the notion that the bureau had not sent an assassin, there was no target. _Has he really come just to welcome me, a strange welcome if that?_ "This is not a trick" he curtly snapped into my ear, as if he heard read my thoughts, his voice still a low whisper, he must have felt my breathing hitch as he did, because he then lowered his tone. "They are not from the king, just wait for a sign and then ride hard as far east along the wall of the city as you can, you will soon reach your destination." I found it impossible to take in the order he gave me as my brain tried to process the first sentence. _Not from the King?_ _What destination? And for that matter what sign? _He pulled me even closer still, my heart racing at our contact, before he swiftly pulled away and covered himself within the shadows.

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_**AN:**__ Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! It's been really great writing it. Please tell me what you think so far. I am near completing chapter 2, it's much shorter, and it will be online tomorrow night (25__th__ June) hopefully : )_

_The idea around the title is taken from a folk song by Kate Rusby, called 'No Names', and later chapters feature the dialogue between the lovers sung within the song. _

_I will try to update a new chapter at least every 2-3 days, regardless of the number of reviews I get, so if you have enjoyed this so far please stick with it! : )_

_Thanks Zoë_

_(__rv-icons__)_


	2. A Fate Worse Than Death?

_If you've enjoyed this so far please R&R :) _

_and there's a bit of violence in this chapter hence the rating going up to an M._

_good times. haha._

_Zoe x_

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**A Fate Worse Than Death?**

He was gone. Like water into mist, he seemed to have vaporised into thin air, his warm body, and his tight protective embrace parting from mine in an effortlessly swift movement. Now I stood alone, in a city I was unaccustomed to no less. Adelbrecht, Tahir and Company could have turned around any second, their intentions still unknown. All I knew was I was in danger. I was in parts whether to trust the Assassin, and wait for his signal_. But what signal?_ I imagined I would probably do more harm to defy his orders, and settled with the signal plan. Assassins were complicated men. Their thoughts mechanical processes; every action has and outcome, every outcome creates a new action to be followed through. Emotions only hinder an Assassin. They are foolish.

My heart was pacing ever quicker, but I had to remain unnoticed, and uninformed. _They have to stop their search for the man in the dark at some point. Surely I was just with him?_ Gripping the reins tighter and tighter I waited, every second an eternity, the suspense causing my breathing to become unsteady and deep. Adelbrecht suddenly turned and I could not help but look petrified as he came towards me. _Templars. _I repeated in my head. _They must be Templars…_

"Miss?" his face was awash with puzzlement. "Are you feeling well?"- I daren't respond. _Adelbrecht must be bluffing, but what about the 3 other guards, they couldn't be Templars could they? They are of Muslim birth, unquestionably._ I half expected Adelbrecht to change, become something sinister, violent. I wanted him to, to Show the truth in his character and wash the doubt from my mind. But he carried on. "Miss? Whatever is the matter." He looked at me dubiously. "Did you see something",

"No, I……it's just" I stumbled on my words, "I'm just a bit wary, that is all" I smiled as best I could without causing suspicion, "I have a terrible fear of.." – I pushed my luck and tested Adelbrecht's reaction, whilst hoping wildly that he wouldn't pick up – "uh a fear of Templars." He didn't stir at all, yet a sudden rush of anxiety poised itself on his face, it was the kind that gets quickly driven away by a preferred face of steely cold ignorance. _Damn._ I moved backwards slowly as if to prepare myself for the dash to the Palace, but before I could the sign appeared.

An eagle swept from the top of a building in the distance, its caws heard piercing the silent air as it glided beak first straight for Tahir. It seemed to peck at his face violently whilst Tahir – arms flailing, tried with all his might to slash the eagle with his dagger. It was dark and the eagle keen of sight gracefully soared on an up thrust back up into the Persian-blue night sky. I watched in terror as Tahir clutched - his hands coated in blood, at the empty space in which his eye would have been, screaming. The eagle had snatched it clean from its socket, and after encircling his victim and surveying its handiwork, released the eye only for it to slap onto the face of one of Adelbrecht's remaining two men, who was looking up in shock at the time. His face was covered in his colleague's blood, worst still the smell invaded his mouth and nose, leaving a metallic taste. He began to gag, and on suppressing the need to rid his stomach in the gutter, was sufficiently flattened by a man dressed in white. _The Assassin._ He was crouched on the guard's back, which I guessed had been broken in the flight path down from the rooftop. The glint of a heavily decorated Katar shone in the moonlight from the victim's neck, as it whipped back into his gauntlet, bloodstained. Aini bucked in fright. I grabbed her reins in time to stop her from rearing high, but I couldn't blame her, her back was turned to the fight, and could smell and hear the fear that discharged itself from the guards. The Assassin then focussed his attentions on the second of Adelbrecht's men. The supposed guard had his long sword gripped tightly at the hilt, and swung it in a fierce hacking motion at the Assassin. He however was promptly stunned by a quick kick in the stomach that floored him, followed shortly by his own sword driven through his stomach pinning him to the dusty ground. He was shown no mercy and the sword twisted slowly. An eruption of blood found its way up through the newly made hole whilst a loud crack proceeded.

Adelbrecht unsure on whether to risk death, or see through **his **mission, decided to take his chances with a traumatized girl, rather than a deadly assassin of the Hashshashin Sect, and he swiftly advanced on me. I gripped Aini tightly as I spun around and placed my left foot in the stirrup, but as I did I noticed 3 men standing on the wall outside the entrance to Jerusalem. It startled me, yet I knew they were here in alliance of the Assassin. They too were dressed in white tunics, with the same articles of physical death adorned as if they were jewellery. I was too slow, and Adelbrecht pulled my neck with a forcefully clamped arm locking my body into submission. He pulled me back and I faltered, stumbling on my feet as it left the stirrup. Hastily I looked back for the 3 Assassins, but they were gone. _I'm going to die. I'm going to die. He will kill me. Death by a Templar._ It was then it dawned on me. _They're finishing off a set._ But I had no time to piece together their motives and used my free hands to claw and grasp at his clutch; I dug my heels into the ground, the rock and sharp dusty gravel ripping my loosely sandaled feet, and leaving a bloodied track.

The night was quiet now; the only sound my pained whimpers as I tried to tell Adelbrecht to let me go, but his hold was crushing my windpipe and I couldn't breathe. He reached the middle of where the three guards now lay silently, Tahir passed out from pain, the other two dead. The Assassins were no where to be seen. I was violently pulled up by my long, fair hair that had fallen out of my scarf whilst I struggled, and Adelbrecht looked deeply into my eyes. He turned and raised the blade of his surprisingly sharp sword to my throat. It was cold and I hitched back in shock, nicking my skin lightly, only to feel a small trickle of blood run down my neck. He threatened ever closer with it, and pushed it into my neck harder. Tears began to swell in my eyes. I closed them praying as hard as I could. There was nothing else I could do.

"Collect your prize, Assassins", Adelbrecht's voice boomed. But there was nothing. The air remained still, untouched, not even a glimmer of thought a murder had taken place that last minute. He tried again, louder, pushing the blade further still into the soft part under my jaw, "collect your prize, Assassins!" My cheeks burnt with tears of frustration as I tried to steady myself in the awkward position I found myself. My legs were bent, and my hair still snatched by Adelbrecht, he had complete control over my body's movement, and furthermore that of the blade. My desperately feeble attempts to push up and steady my weight onto my legs, were foiled by both the sharp pain of the wounds I now sustained on each heel, and the sword digging deeper. Again the Assassins did not appear. It seemed like an age that I was pressed between the erratic rise and fall of my captor's chest, and an incredibly sharp blade, a position I was trying my best to relieve myself from. But still _where were the Assassins?_ Frantically I told myself that they were waiting for a particular moment to attack, only to stop myself from panicking and accidentally slitting my own throat. But my thoughts were soon vanquished by the bloodthirsty caw of the eagle. Adelbrecht looked up, to find it circling his head, just above the rooftops of a nearby 3 storey house. In fear of losing a favoured part of his anatomy, worse still a limb, he quickly removed his sword, whilst keeping a tight hold onto my now numb head of hair, and kicked the small of my back. My nose was the first part of me to meet with the floor, blood spraying instantly, as my knees buckled under the sharp pain travelling from my torn feet. Sobbing I thought of my impending death. He raised his sword ready to strike. I heard the metallic wave of crisp light that edged its way along the pointed edge. _Surely the assassins haven't gone, left me to die? _I winced, wetness now running freely but silently down my scorched face, as I expected the blade to fall between my shoulders. I heard the sword - grasped tightly, enter and rip through tense skin, and emerge the other side strong.

Looking around, I was amazed to find my head was intact, connected to the rest of me. The body of Adelbrecht fell to the floor beside me - impailed on his own sword, and I couldn't help but cry with relief, my hands grasping at the dirt around me. I tried to move but I couldn't feel a thing. My vision was blurred with tears and shock; I had never expected to feel so much pain as I did now. All of my body wished me dead, and I slumped further, suppressing a loud cry in my throat. I wondered if my family had received the better side of the bargain after all.

Hardly noticing the four presences behind me, I carried on releasing my anger into the ground. Yet reducing my hurt into a moan when I felt the strong arm of an Assassin pick me up and carry me silently, as if I were a mere feather. He put my arms around his neck and my head rested naturally on his shoulder. I could hear the eagle silently flap towards my general direction, and an Assassin congratulate it lovingly. One of the other Assassins remarked on how he would take Tahir to Masayaf, to see his Master, I heard Aini's hooves trot off in the distance, out of Jerusalem, shortly after.

I was conscious for the run to the bureau, but my eyes were closed, heavy and cloudy. I could feel the jolt of my head against my vehicle's shoulder as he descended the walls and jumped from rooftop to rooftop. When we reached the destination, I was near physical exhaustment, and the last memories i recall were of a bed of silken pillows, and musky air scented with patchouli. I was safe.


	3. The Boy King

_Sorry this one took a while to get up, i finished it started writing ch.4 and then forgot to upload this one. haha. ditzy me. i promise Ch. 4 will be with you shortly._

_plus, i finished the game a couple of days ago, i was surprised as from memory block 4 to the end i only took me 2 hrs, if that. But the game kept bugging, like at the end battle coff coff the charecters you are supposed to kill, all died together when threw a knife at just one of them!! so in that respects the game was a bit crap for me. however still loving the story/charecter._

_Plese tell me what you think. R&R. i need to know you guys are out there! haha_

_Zoe._

_xx_

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**The Boy King**

When I first woke up, it was still night, probably just after they had set me down on the pillows. I could only hear mumbles and small sections of conversation. I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

"She did not fight back at all?" I heard the first Assassin say. I could hear shuffling and pots clanging together. The second voice was right next to me.

"No, not at all. She didn't even try to run as I had instructed her to." _I recognise that voice…it is him._

"Strange, odd considering." The first voice spoke again with disbelief in his voice. I felt a cold hand span the length of both my feet examining my heels.

"Just as I had thought–"His agreement was cut short by the pained whimper I exhaled, as the first Assassin lifted my shirt.

"I think I have found the cause of her irresponsive nature." The first Assassin took a sharp breath, "the wound is pressed against her undergarment, stuck to it. I will need warm water"

"Of course" I noticed of the sound of leather on the dusty stone floor as he walked to the fountain, and then to a different room, out of my sensory reach. He must have returned with a bowl and linens. As the last thing I remember of that moment was a warm soothing, but burning sting as the wet linen was applied to my crusted under-shirt.

* * *

My eyes opened slightly. It was near morning. The amber flecks of light that poured from the wooden ceiling bored into my face. I sensed a presence in the room next to me. My body felt hot and clammy, most likely because I still was not accustomed to the climate. But mainly because I was uncomfortable, so I tried to turn onto my side, as I usually slept, but only achieved more pain. Unexpectedly a hand appeared in front of my half open eyes, and a layer of cool liquid instantly comforted my fever.

"Be still. Sleep" I heard the Assassin whisper softly.

* * *

I finally awoke at around noon. I could sense the sun was at its highest, my body temperature told me that enough. Yet it was silent outside, the bureau is always at the centre of each city. _Where is everyone?_ The fever was gone, but I was still incredibly sore and still tired after my long ride, let alone the evening combat. I could barely make out the figure of a man tottering about the small room. My eyes opened reluctantly, and I found myself back home.

"I am back in Dismashq?" I asked, looking at the Assassin who busied himself filling 3 ceramic pots with ink.

"Damascus?" He chuckled, "No this is Jerusalem". I looked around bleary eyed and confused. I tried to move my head to the right to survey the room in which I could hear a trickling fountain, but the pain in my neck prevented me from doing so. At this moment I had vague recollection of the events of the night before. Yet I was sure I was in Damascus, and I was also sure I did not intend to be there ever again.

"I am not convinced I understand, you say this is the Jerusalem Bureau, but it is exactly as I remember the one situated in Damascus." I tried to sit up, pushing myself up on my elbows, only to feel a piercing sting in my coccyx, as it pushed against the hard floor. The sharp ache immediately took the air from my lungs, and I muffled a loud groan. The Assassin behind the counter noticed my pained efforts and quickly jogged to help me. When he knelt I noticed his arm. He only had the one; even so he was strong enough to support me on his knees, whilst reaching for more pillows to rest against my bruised back. Instantly the pain lifted and I could sit upright. "There, that should be better. Try not to move much - that is if you can", he smiled, "Rafiq would hate to see his handiwork ruined", I looked down and noticed I wasn't wearing my clothes but a simple linen shirt. He passed me a skin of water whilst I lifted the shirt to examine my stomach; I had a large purple bruise that spanned the whole of my stomach, inside of it a yellowy bit and then a perfectly neat stitched up scar about 15 cm in width. For the first time in months it was beginning to heal, and I was so grateful I was not at all bothered about the issue of them undressing me. I had been stabbed in the stomach, and would be dead were it not for my quick reflexes and judgement. A guard had thrust towards me, dagger in hand, luckily I pushed him away quick enough for the blade to merely pierce and rip slightly at the skin. That was when I was last in Damascus.

"Thank-you" I said looking up, smiling with a warm feeling of relief, and finding the Assassin engrossed in a stack of scrolls.

"Think nothing of it. You are in our Sanctuary now; I'd rather you stuck from the blade of the enemy than our own mistreatment." He laughed, I understood his dark humour and for that moment my mood was lifted. But only momentarily.

"Can I please know your name, so that I may thank those who personally prevent my death by their own misjudgement?" I giggled, he coolly suggested – his back still turned, that I should not be interested with the details of my safeguard. "Not even the name of the other? The one who on many occasions now has brought me from the edge of death?" He turned to face me,

"Remind me please, that could be any of the Brethren."

"True" I racked my brain for any description of the shady scholar, that didn't suit his own perception of himself. Yes I could admit he was a handsome man, and he had masculine charm and buckets of it too, yet he lacked a lot more, such as modesty and tact. "The arrogant one" I quickly retorted.

"Ahh, yes. I know of the one you speak", the Assassin laid out a scroll upon the along the benched area before a wall of books, and continued to speak whilst scribbling notes on the aged parchment. "He would wish not to be referred to as arrogant, even though he deserves such judgement."

"What name better suits him then?" I asked confused, but understanding of the secretive nature the Assassin attempted to demonstrate to me.

"I could not tell you myself. Ask him now" He promptly whipped up the scroll and tied the string back around itself, before tossing it to the corner and repeating the same process of scribbling and rolling on a bundle of others.

_Ask him myself? Now?_

"Ask me what?" - my thoughts were quickly shaken by a creak of wood, as the Assassin we had just spoken of emerged hanging from the ceiling in the room next to me, and dropped to the floor. _Goodness sakes! Are these men telepathic?!_ I tried to flatten my matted hair, before he walked into the room and saw my face, pale and translucent without the flattening glow of the moon. The other Assassin noticed this, and shook his head, 'tutting' and returned to his work, as if he had seen this act of desperate last minute beauty before. He walked in the room, and immediately strode to the Assassin with one arm, not even glancing at me, and I could hear only an exchange of whispers. I tried to cock my head closer to hear what they were talking of, but instead it resulted in a brief but sharp twinge in my neck, and I remembered the locked arm of the German that had kept my body under tight control. I let out an uncontrolled moan. His cold eyes glared at me, like those of a god's, looking straight through my exterior and into my soul. I felt he read all my darkest intimate secrets and desires, and I felt myself bare them all, sacrificing them to him. Some of them I wanted him to see, the ones that my courage alone could not urge me to say to him personally. I nodded faltering slightly, and he returned to conversation. Minutes passed, but the whispering continued, only until they decidedly raised their voices.

"I shall see you soon, God willing" The arrogant Assassin remarked as the Assassin with one arm swiftly pushed open the small door to the counter, and walked past the other, a strong sense of determination in his face and a feather in his hand.

_Damn. Please don't leave me with him; I look a mess._ Again I tried with all my might to make my appearance acceptable, pinching my cheeks to create rouge on my pallid skin. He turned just as quickly as he came in and immediately addressed me.

"Are you comfortable Zahra?", it was the first time in months anybody had called me by my name, let alone my nickname. I was usually 'the girl', or 'the daughter of the deceased', and this direct approach surprised me.

"I could not ask for more. You and your Brethren have done so much for me, I can hardly think of how to reward such generosity." He smiled warmly from underneath the hood, and to my surprise, lifted it off his face, to reveal a short but messy brown mass. His eyes - that from under the darkness were icy and unforgiving, now seemed to have a warm copper resonance to them, they created a honey brown light, rather than reflecting a cool grey pool. I next noticed his straight nose, which led to a perfectly formed mouth. He was just as handsome hood down as he was hood up, and I had to suppress a womanly blush.

"That is not necessary. Malik said you had something you wanted to ask me?" he came down to rest on a pillow next to me, by the chess board. His closeness made me blush even further and I found it hard to function near him. Looking at the floor I summoned the courage to ask,

"It only seems fitting that now in the circumstance you address me with my first name, I should return the favour". He glanced my way, before poking around at the neatly positioned chess pieces.

"It is Altaïr. The flying one", He took a drink from the skin on the floor, before offering it to me. The cool liquid offering relief to my parched throat, instantaneously my voice was clearer and it didn't possess the aged quality I had gained from shouting. He looked me up and down, first examining my face, a pitiful expression present on his own. Though I wasn't offended he regarded me with such low esteem, I was just happy he paid any attention to me whatsoever. I racked my brain for something to say, there were so many questions I needed to ask about last night but they had all gone from my head the moment he came in the room.

"Altaïr" I started, and he stared at me deeper, "I just want to say thank you, I cannot explain how much good you have done for me." He nodded in acceptance. "It is just that all that has happened recently, it's been very hard for just one girl to comprehend, let alone protect herself from. I realised from last night's conflict, that what happened in Damascus was no accident, and it would make sense that I am a target now." All of a sudden my thoughts came back to me. _The King, I am supposed to be with the King; surely he is worried I have not arrived._ "What of the King, he waits for me in court." My voice spoke an unexpected urgency. Altaïr glanced behind himself, before standing up and moving away to the counter, and took out a small piece of parchment from his pouch on his belt.

"I received a bird noon, yesterday." I looked at him, expecting him to continue with regards to the King's guards having a corrupt Templar intrusion. Yet he passed the note to me, with a grave expression, I quickly read it.

_Brother,_

_It is with great sorrow I must pass to you the news of the death of King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. _

_So far I do believe it was merely consequence to his illness, yet I cannot be certain, I still need to dig around. _

_I have heard news that a guest is to arrive for the Kings company, tonight. She is the daughter of the Late John Forteaux of Damascus; I believe you know of her. She must be stopped from entering the city, a guard of Templar's wait at the East entrance for her arrival._

_I expect one of the Templars will need to be left alive, take him to Al Mualim for further information._

_A__s salaamu alaikum,_

_- Faruq._

It felt as if all the air was taken from my lungs, and I couldn't breathe. My throat tightened and my eyes began to swell with water. I looked up; begging for some solace, yet Altaïr was turned. I pushed my weight onto my hands to stand up, but the pain was too much, I needed to get some fresh air. All my thoughts suddenly turned to getting out of the room, and I tried harder to move, the news hurt so much that my body became numb to its own injury. Slowly I moved upwards pushing my weight onto my knees and shakily resting my sore heels on the cold floor. He must have heard my movement, because when I looked up to stand, he had twisted to face me, and stood arm out gesturing his aid. I gladly accepted. His strong hand wrapped around mine tightly, and wholly, it was as if he commanded the movement of my body from his own in just his hands. I was swiftly pulled up and he grabbed me tight at the waist, making sure I would not fall. My arms found his and I steadied myself grabbing at his shirt around his flexed bicep. We were so close our mouths nearly touched. If they had it would have been an accident at that, but still I could feel an overwhelming intensity that caused me to look down, rather than directly towards him.

The first part of my grief was over, and it was a sad fate that I was so accustomed to the emotion, however the negative energy just built inside of me, pumping a furious light to every joint I owned. "Thank you", I whispered, my eyes still wet, and my head pounding, "but I need to get out of here, I need to see Him." Swiftly Altaïr pulled me closer still, threatening my face with the intrusion of his own.

"That I cannot allow you to do." He was stern, and his reaction intense, as opposed to his caring side I had seen seconds previous. "You must not run off and visit the palace. Understand?" He grasped my waist tighter. "Understand?" But I needed to. Every last muscle in my body wanted to reach out and slap his face, punch his chest, kick him. Just release my anger, yet I could not. I nodded in silent comprehension, my eyes still streaming. Altaïr – forgetting my incapacity, let me go from his broad reach, and I soon found myself wobbling upon frail ligaments, my bones refusing to collaborate with my muscles. Just in time, he snatched me up, before my limp body could hit the floor and he lead me to my makeshift bed. Putting one foot in front of the other in turn, I winced as my soft heel rubbed and it was not a minute before I found the floor again. "You are weak Zahra, try not to walk for a while" without warning he lifted my legs in one arm, and my body rested against his chest and the other, I –just for that moment, praised the closeness of our bodies, and noticed myself swooning like a pubescent child. He reiterated the importance of my safety, whilst carefully placing me on a stool next to the chess table "Please do not venture out without my escort, the city is awash with those who now bow to corruption and crime, those who would seek war and injustice where there need not be any. Reynald's men will wait for you to appear, they are actively seeking you for death, and the example of ill company." The hot rays of sun that slipped through the ceiling, quickly began to warm up and burn my legs, and I realised I was only wearing a shirt over my undergarments. I pulled the linen blanket over myself and rearranged the chess pieces, from where Altaïr had fingered at them. I picked up each wrongly positioned piece in turn and set it back in its rightful place. First three pawns, a knight, a bishop, and then the King. I held it in my hand, lingering on the idea of it.

I remembered the first summer I had spent in Damascus, and the young Prince Baldwin of Ibelin who had come to welcome us on our arrival. He was eighteen, I only eight. This of course was before his illness took hold of him, before anyone even had a vague premonition of it. He had broad, shoulders and a smouldering masculine face, even as an eight year old I was attracted to his seemingly incorruptible power. And from then on it had continued, at the age of 15 I cried when It was announced of his marriage, and refused to attend the ceremony, even denied him my company at court in Jerusalem for the whole summer, as I would have usually done. I felt the tears return as I reminisced on our time together just a month ago. He was in ill health, bed ridden, yet he showed signs of returning to full strength, as he usually after the winter months. I stayed with him, talking and joking, sharing plans for the two great cities of the Middle East; his being Jerusalem, and Damascus my fathers.

It was the last night I had stayed at court, when he had summoned me to his chamber, only to reveal that had it been his choice, he would have made a Queen of me, rather than the prize 'wife' who pretended to care and love him, as I naturally did. It had been a night of honesty, as I too had confessed my feelings towards him. It was also the same night I was called back to Damascus, to find the Gardens of my family's palace covered with innocent blood. Some of it belonging to them.

A loud gasp emitted from my throat followed by a cry full of anguish. And I noticed where I was, back in the bureau. All of my pent up anger and hurt came out in hard aching waves. I found myself questioning the God I dared not believe in. Altaïr was now in the other room, to the right, near the ceiling entrance of the bureau. I tried to calm myself down, desperately trying to remain strong; I needed him to believe I was ready and able to fight, unlike the night before.

All of a sudden a bell rang in the distance, followed by the continuous peal of bells from the Royal Palace. "Malik will be back shortly" I heard Altaïr, say directing his attention to the ceiling. _So that's his name._

"But those bells" I sniffed, "are they not the bells rung after an –" I stopped myself swiftly as Altaïr shot a glance my way, and continued in my head, _the bells of an assassination? At the palace? But the King is already dead!_ My wits reminded me of the one armed Assassin that had left feather in hand. _Maybe he has gone for Raynald de Chatillon. _Just as I finished deliberating with myself, Malik entered through the ceiling, dropping gracefully, albeit one-armed, and produced the feather – bloodied, to Altaïr.

"My mission is complete" he looked tired a resentment written about his face. "The boy King is dead; we now need only turn our attentions to Raynald."

"Good work Brother." Altaïr moved back to the room in which I sat to find me with a look of absolute horror plastered upon my face. I had realised who the target had been. It wasn't Raynald, but the Kings nephew, the next in line. A boy of only nine years.


End file.
